


A Mouse's Tale

by Highly_Illogical



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, School, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9167824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highly_Illogical/pseuds/Highly_Illogical
Summary: “Now, what makes Albus Dumbledore so fond of you?”An answer to that question, or rather one of many, lies in Newt's very first year at Hogwarts, and it involves... a mouse?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I sincerely hope the dash instead of the slash in the "Teacher-Student Relationship" tag means a PLATONIC relationship. If not, oops. That's how I interpreted it, and if that wasn't what you were looking for, please search elsewhere.

_“Now, what makes Albus Dumbledore so fond of you?”_

Newt felt the colour drain from his cheeks as he entered the Transfiguration classroom and dragged himself to his seat. The sight before them elicited excited whispers from most of his classmates, but not from him—yet another way in which he was different. Instead, his stomach dropped.

On each desk was an identical little cage, and in each cage, a tiny white mouse was scurrying in the little space it had to move, beady pink eyes staring at the new occupants as if begging for release.

No no no no no. Why?

“Welcome, everyone.” Professor Dumbledore was smiling, the same as always, and for one fleeting, irrational moment, he wished he could wipe that smile off his face. “As you may have gathered, I have some exciting news today: I believe you have progressed enough that we may begin practicing on live subjects. You’ll find it is a much more complex endeavour than any inanimate object you have Transfigured before, so naturally, we will be starting small. More precisely, I will be asking you to turn your mouse into a snuffbox. Pay attention, now—it may come up in your end of year exams. Watch.”

He had a mouse of his own, a larger one, and everyone’s eyes were trained on him as he executed the spell with no apparent effort, gave them all a few moments to digest what they’d just seen, and then turned the animal back to its original state.

“Any questions?”

Several hands went up, and before long, Professor Dumbledore was bombarded with questions on the finer points of the exercise—the best way to do it, what other similar transformations they might learn starting from it, and all that.

But Newt’s hand was up for an entirely different reason, and he was ready to let his arm fall off waiting for his turn if need be.

“Yes, Mr. Scamander?”

“Sir, does it hurt?”

His eyes twinkled behind the half-moon spectacles. “Come again?”

Newt had the unmistakable impression that Dumbledore had heard him perfectly the first time around, but he repeated himself anyway. “This exercise, sir. Does… does it hurt the mouse?”

“I don’t believe so, Mr. Scamander. Now, why don’t you all give it a try?”

And try he did, and let it never be said that he didn’t try his best. But magic, they said, was a matter of concentration, and the girl next to him had just produced a grotesque, half-formed thing with a tail and four little legs that were flailing uselessly without touching the desk, and blood was pounding in his ears, and his concentration was far, far away.

He couldn’t do it. He was only halfway aware of the others’ laughter, and frankly, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

And finally, blessedly, the end of the lesson came, and Newt could breathe again. He rose to leave the classroom almost at a run, but a voice stopped him dead in his tracks, calm authority hitting him square in the chest like a Bludger.

“Mr. Scamander, a moment, if you please.”

More snickering as he was forced to stay behind for his failings. It was only as the very last of them trickled out that Dumbledore finally spoke.

“Why couldn’t you perform the exercise, Mr. Scamander?”

“I… I don’t know, sir.”

“Don’t you?”

“I… I guess my heart wasn’t in it.”

Surprisingly, the man was smiling. “That’s one way to put it. Magic is largely about intent, Mr. Scamander, and you clearly had none. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to practice after hours, whether you – or the mouse – like it or not. As I said, it may come up in your final exams.”

“I understand, sir. Goodbye.” Newt sighed. If the next lessons were anything like this, Transfiguration was going to become his worst subject, for sure.

He made to leave, but the teacher stopped him once more.

“Oh, and Mr. Scamander?”

“Yes, Professor?”

“Five points to Hufflepuff for your uncommon display of morality. I don’t get many students who care so deeply about the life and well-being of a mere mouse at your age.”

_“I really couldn’t say.”_

**Author's Note:**

> What the heck, people? Two in one day, it's a record. My muse is smiling at me.


End file.
